


Free Skate

by icywind



Series: The Best Game You Can Name [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Several other people are, The idea of prolonged exposure to his crush has Clint reacting like a besotted teenager, he is not amused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil’s smile was serene and nothing but encouraging. Clint wanted to faceplant at the red line and never get up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Skate

**Author's Note:**

> This fic (ficlet? it seems so short) takes place the day after [Line Change](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1150090).
> 
> A million and one thanks (again) to [phae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae) for the beta-read.

“Now, I know you guys were probably expecting a regular practice today, but I thought we might do something a little bit different,” Coulson opened the next morning. Clint hadn’t been entirely surprised when he’d learned that they were having a team meeting prior to practice today. It only made sense that Coulson would want to outline a few more of his ideas before they attempted to implement them on the ice.

“This is a good team, I truly believe that, you guys believe that; but I think, somewhere along the way, we’ve forgotten why we’re here. And I don’t just mean to win.” He opened his hands and fixed the room with an earnest look. “I mean that one reason all of us are here. The first reason we got into this. Because it’s fun. Because we love the game. You don’t sign up for early morning practices and bruises on your bruises if you don’t love the game.”

Clint had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling too widely. He loved a good Phil Coulson Inspirational Talk™.

“So rather than practice today, I want us to just go out there and have some fun. Skate around, goof off – whatever you want as long as you just enjoy yourself. This is for players, coaches and support staff too. Everyone. We’re all in this together, after all.”

 

~~~

 

“Fitz! Where are your skates?”

Clint looked over from where he was leaning against the boards as Coulson’s question distracted him.

“Well sir, I don’t…I don’t really skate all that much. I’m more of a scholar of the game, really.”

“He’s a bit like Bambi on the ice, sir,” Jemma said with a bright teasing grin.

“Oi that’s…”

“Totally and completely true,” Ward finished, despite the hurt expression Fitz sent his way. 

“Don’t worry, sir, we’ve got this,” Jemma said, grabbing one of Fitz’s arms while Ward grabbed the other as they went off in search of a pair of skates for the Scotsman.

“He is kind of hilariously unsteady,” Clint couldn’t help but say as Coulson stepped on to the ice. It was only natural to fall in step with the coach as he neared.

“It’s good for the soul,” Coulson replied, and they fall into an easy silence as they lap the rink, weaving in and out of the small groupings of players and staff.

“Who should I substitute for you on the first line?” Coulson asks out of the blue on their third or fourth turn around the ice.

“What?” Had he heard that right?

“I asked who I should substitute for you on the first line.”

“Why not ask Jasper?” Clint knew that Phil and Jasper had worked together before and that their general philosophies on the game meshed well. That had been one of the reasons he’d been kept on as an assistant coach. “Or, out of any of the players, shouldn’t you ask Steve that? He’s captain and all that, knows everyone pretty well.” 

“Barton, I’m betting you know the team just as well as Steve – and while I will be asking for his opinion, I also want yours. Everyone brings something different to the table with how they see the game. So talk to me, tell me what you think.”

Clint looked down and away, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. He’d had more than one coach over the years who had snarked at him when he’d offered opinions on something during games or practice. His adoptive dad had encouraged him to question things and make observations, coming from the position that it would help him learn and become better at the game. _‘A good coach will have a relationship that’s a two-way conversation, not just a recitation of their rules and wants.’_ Clint had sadly come to the determination that some coaches certainly didn’t agree with that idea, considered it borderline insubordination or something similar, and he had stopped over time. One too many speeches about needing to remember what his place was on the team would do that to a guy.

“I’d put Ward up,” he said after a moment’s contemplation, glancing up to watch the man in question as he and Jemma attempted to help Fitz stay mostly upright (a touch and go affair). “You might be tempted to pick Pietro, but he and Sam together are like a black hole for offense – we’re not sure why. Ward doesn’t think on his feet quite as fast, but he’ll be able to keep up with Sam and Steve well enough.” 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Coulson’s smile was gentle and Clint found himself looking away again, hoping like mad that the burning he could feel on the tips of his ears could be passed off as due to the chill of the rink and not the blush he knew it was. 

At least it wasn’t ranging onto his cheeks or neck or anything. 

It hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he had thought, though, if the looks Bobbi and Natasha were giving him were anything to go by. He’d held on to a tiny bit of hope that maybe they’d just tease him for skating with Coulson right up until they’d drifted past each other and Natasha winked. Coulson gave him a befuddled look as if to ask ‘What was that about?’ And Clint muttered, “Trying to ruin my damn life, as per usual.” 

Problem was, he didn’t mutter it as quietly as he thought he had because Coulson actually heard him and promptly laughed out loud. Clint would be insulted that someone was laughing at his future suffering if he wasn’t quite so busy nearly swallowing his tongue. Coulson looked **good** when he laughed. Eyes crinkling, head tilted back a little to expose the line of his throat – it was the hint of the scar on his neck that saved Clint from blushing too much. Or making a fool of himself in some other way.

He was certain things hadn’t been this bad at last year’s Worlds. He just had to get used to being around Coulson again, was all. ‘Get a grip, Barton. You’re 26 not 16,’ he tried to tell himself as the fluttering in his stomach eased off some.

“You’ve worked under me before, Clint; you know it’s not going to be like Blake,” Coulson said, apparently taking Clint’s quiet as still being uncertain about giving his opinion. 

Yeah no, that didn’t help. Apparently he was still a little bit 16 because ‘working under Coulson’ made the butterflies in his stomach flutter a little again. 

“Yeah, uh, I understand. It’ll just take some getting used to, y’know?”

“Sure.” Phil’s smile was serene and nothing but encouraging. Clint wanted to faceplant at the red line and never get up. “We have plenty of time, we’ll get there.”

Mercifully, any additional fits of teenage-esque angst and ridiculousness were kept to a minimum for the remainder of their free skate. Clint managed to have actual adult conversations with Coulson, and later Steve and Natasha as well. He was feeling pretty good about things as he made his way to his car when his phone buzzed indicating a new message. And then he had to stop and stare, a blush well and truly spreading across his face and down his neck. The message was from Natasha and consisted of a picture of him skating with Coulson. Or, more specifically, him staring at Coulson with one of the most embarrassingly besotted expressions ever to grace his features while Coulson had been laughing.

_I hate you SO much rn._

_Lies are for the weak. You love me._

_Hate_

_Love_

_Hate_

_Love_

_Buy me lunch and I’ll consider ‘like’ again._

_Fair enough_

As he got in his car and buckled his belt he silently vowed to find the most expensive place he could, if only to make up for the horrible teasing that would start out the meal.

**Author's Note:**

> Cautiously optimistic there will be another post later this week, though, it likely won't be in in-universe chronological order. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/) if you find this interesting and/or amusing enough to want to chat. Or be inundated at random intervals with pics of Renner and hockey players.


End file.
